AN: Note to the wise, ie not me, spell check before you spend ten minutes
wrapping the chapter so you don't have to go back and change everything
by hand. =)
A huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed!! And to all those authors
out there- hay I read fanfiction too! Get off your rears and write! ;)
I know... I know... I shouldn't get impatient but I want new chapters
too!! Especially new chapters that I don't have to pluck from my own
overworked brain... =-P
Disclaimers: and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Sacrifices: Chapter 9~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jareth pressed the heel of his hand against the bridge of his nose,
trying to ward off the terrific headache blooming between mismatched
eyes. Sarah watched him as he paced from her precarious, rather
nervous perch on the edge of his bed. Yes, his bed. The throne room
was full of goblins and everywhere else wasn't shielded well enough to
block prying eyes, slitted prying eyes.
Not that Jareth particularly blamed Drevlyn. Jareth guarded the
Dragon Prince's, and his race's future. When he was in a better
temper he wouldn't have particularly blamed Drevlyn. Right this
instant roasted, toasted, and burnt to a crisp were the only words
that came to mind. Interfering busybody. And he wasn't the only
one.
Evirey needed to be taken down a few notches. She may be the Queen
of Intrigue and Politics but she was a very foolish woman. No one
entered the heart of his realm and attempted to take what was his. No
one. Especially not some damned insufferable Unicorn.
Snapping eyes flickered to Sarah. Jareth sighed internally. The
child, girl, woman, very much a woman, looked about as bad as Jareth
felt. She had barely slept in two days, eaten less, and been through
more emotional turmoil than the King of the Goblins cared to think
about.
He himself was not, refused to let himself be, an easy person to deal
with. Especially when it came down to a mortal, a human immortal his
mind added with a cynical little laugh, who had beaten his Labyrinth.
Who had defeated him. Who had refused her dreams and all that Jareth
could offer.
Her child for her life had been their deal and now... Now it was her
life for her child's future. Throw immortality, a devious Unicorn
Queen, and a disapproving Dragon Prince in the mix and Jareth was
pleased that Sarah Williams wasn't having a nervous breakdown. She
looked pissed but then, she wasn't trying to slap him so he wasn't
going to complain.
He paused his nervous dance around the room in front of her and
frowned. "We have to talk." Sarah lifted her chin from her knees and
stared at him. There was fear in that intent gaze but it was
overshadowed by stubborness, and a strength that was new in her.
Womanhood had brought more to Sarah than a mature body.
"Where are we?" Jareth glared and his newest subject glared back,
clearly uncomfortable in the silk oppulence that the King of the
Goblins chose for his personal quarters. The atmosphere was rich,
seductive, intimate... a reflection of himself. The architecture,
like the rest of the castle, leaned towards gothic with vaulted,
arched ceilings and chambers of different floor levels.
Velvet drapes covered the numerous windows and silk hung from the
ceiling like waves, or clouds. Cushions, pillows, cashmere throws
covered bare ledges and created seats for rarely had visitors.
Crystals hung as chandeliers and formed fantastic sculptures that
stood throughout his rooms. His bed was a massive four post thing,
made of cherry wood and covered again with silk sheets. All of the
fabric was varying shades of darkness... blacks, indigos, maroons,
midnight blues and the room was lit by old fashion oil lamps and
hundreds of wavering candles.
"We are in my quarters." At Sarah's drawn brows Jareth snorted again,
this time audibly. "Really Sarah, you think so little of me? I
wished to speak away from the prying eyes of my enemies, and my
friends, and I did not think you would be much more comfortable in the
Throne Room, along with the three dozen goblins that are currently
occupying it."
"The Non Sidhe..." she said softly. Jareth's body tensed as he
continued his prowl, sure predatory steps drawing him closer to her.
He stopped in front of her and titled his head to one side, appraising
eyes darkening with thought. Brown suede gloved fingers brushed one
pale cheek absently.
"My we have been busy, haven't we?" Sarah pulled away and scooted
back on the bed. Jareth stared down at her in absent amusement. "And
where did you learn of the Non Sidhe Sarah? Of the Low, Middle, and
High for I assume you have knowledge of them as well..." She said
nothing. Jareth tsked gently as another step took him to the bed
where he sat gracefully, one leg folded over his other.
"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah..." he chided with her name. She rolled off the
bed in a flash and stood several wary steps away, arms crossed across
her breast in an unconscious imitation of him, though her arms acted
like a shield, not like an outward show of strength and solidarity.
She was rattled.
"I'm not a child Jareth. Don't treat me like one." He rose and was at
her side, taller, more intimidating than should have been possible.
His fingers, when he caressed her cheek again, were still careful,
soothing even.
"I've never believed you to be a child Sarah. Childish perhaps, but
never a child." He ignored the casual use of his name this once. The
last thing he wanted to remind Sarah of was her pride. She shivered
under his touch, at the whispered words, and, in all things concerning
the Goblin King, refused it. She stepped away with a swallow. Jareth
made a move to follow her but she stopped him with her outstretched
hand. They both stared at it, at the angry scar that was a very real
reminder of a life Sarah had left behind. Jareth hissed and the
frustration, the pain, the longing behind the noise startled Sarah,
frightened her more than anything she had experienced here yet.
Jareth was danger and allure. It was part of who, what he was. No
woman could face him, could be in his presence, without being pulled
toward him. She had not recognized that fact twenty years ago, as
they played their thirteen hour game of villain and heroine. She
recognized it now.
It changed nothing.
The rules had changed though, Sarah felt, knew that. For one moment
she wished, desperately, for the black and white of the Labyrinth of
old. That was one thing she had learned, one lesson she had never
been able to take back- the older you got the more the world was one
big gray. And gray with a Goblin King was a very dangerous thing.
His simmering gaze narrowed.
"King Jareth," he snapped suddenly. Sarah flushed. Damn man. No
one, no one flustered her this easily.
"You wished to speak?" Sarah asked, ignoring the reprimand, or the
sudden fury in the Goblin King's frigid gaze. He surveyed her with
cold disdain. Sarah returned the regard cooly, though without the
pure intensity that Jareth managed as she brought her stray hand,
clenched, to her side.
"This first Sarah..." God, she hated it when he said her name. It
was always just a little too suggestive, always lingered over, as if
it was a thing to be savored, tasted. No one's name should be so
enjoyed, so full. 'Human, child, woman', anything would be preferable
to that slow velvety voice whispering, taunting, sliding through the
syllables of her name. It had been daringly thrilling at fifteen. It
was reality enough now to make her wince at its usage. And damn him
again, he knew it, knew it and reveled in it.
"How did you learn of our world?" Sarah flinched at the 'our' as
Jareth continued. "How did you learn of your immortality for that
matter? Evirey? I didn't think she had you to herself for that
long..." There was jealously that flared there, at the last.
"No," Sarah replied, trying to hold back irrational, hysterical
laughter. "Not Evirey..."
"Sarah..." an undercurrent of menace in his harsh tone. Sarah
snorted as she tried, unsuccessfully, not to negate her fears,
insecurities, and overwhelming situation by giggling. Devon would
have recognized her mood and back slowly, but surely away.
One night out, when the sitter had called them home early because she
had gotten food poisoning, after Devon had locked his keys in the car,
and Sarah had twisted her ankle on a patch on ice... They had come
home to a house flooded by an over flown toilet, one puking sitter and
a amused, though confused Melanie and had spent two hours arguing with
a plumber with a reading level of a ten year old... Sarah had laughed
the entire night, giggled, cried, had been insufferable as they paid
an inordinate amount for the plumber, the baby sitter, and had visited
the emergency room for her ankle.
Sarah started laughing.
The Goblin King couldn't have been more surprised if she'd tried to
slap him again.
"Sarah," he intoned, fury at her disrespect lacing her still savored
name with exasperation. He stared at her as she leaned over and
laughed, hard, loud, unrestrained, undismayed by the looming Goblin
King.
"Sarah!" he snapped and her name was once again a command. A command
that she utterly ignored.
"You..." she spluttered helplessly, "You're jealous of... of..."
Jareth growled and with one swift motion hauled the giggling woman
upright. She stared at him, openly, met his piercing, terrifying
glare with her own dancing eyes and continued swiftly, breathlessly,
"You're jealous of your own servant Jareth. It was Hellin who told me
of the Non Sidhe, the Low, Middle and High. It was Hellin who told
me I was immortal..." Jareth's jaw snapped shut abruptly, a
chilliness descending his features with a suddenness that spoke of
absolute control. Sarah admired that control, admired it and knew she
could never achieve it herself.
He released her slowly, his hands loosening from their hold on her
arms. He had been gripping her so tight she had little doubt that
there'd be bruises. "That hurt," she said softly, eyes still staring
into his. He didn't apologize. He didn't acknowledge that she had
said anything else at all.
"I am not jealous."
She spoke before she thought, said the word carelessly, and regretted
it the instant it left her lips.
"Liar."
There were too many meanings layered in that word. Too many contexts,
too much history, both good and bad, tied like a kite tail to that one
simple word. Jareth whitened instantly, paled as if all blood had
fled, leaving only cold marble behind.
"I do not lie Sarah..." He didn't finish the thought, not out loud,
but she could read it in his eyes, in the pale, flushed fires that
resided there. In the hell she had seen behind his pupils that night
twenty not so long years ago.
She felt young in those eyes, young, untried, untested, weaker than
she liked to believe. So young... And Melanie and Devon seemed so
very far away.
'...not to you...' She could almost hear the words said, almost see
them leaving his twisting, beautiful mouth. Yes beautiful... She had
refused Jareth but she had never denied his beauty. You do not deny
that the sea is salty, or that they sky is not blue. You do not deny
the beauty of the Goblin King when you stand before him, especially
when you stand before him.
She did not know the rules of the game. She didn't even know what
game they were playing. If they were playing at all... Sarah
shivered.
"You are cold," Jareth said suddenly, breaking the terrible, poignant
awkwardness of the moment. He stepped away and she watched, wide
eyed.
"We..." Jareth looked away from her, from the immortal human, from his
immortal human. Looked away and tried, desperately, to gather shreds
of a dignity that seemed to have melted, unnoticed, away.
"We shall continue this another time. When you have recovered some
from all the shocks you have had of late." Sarah looked away from the
Goblin King as well.
"All right Jareth," she replied softly.
"King Jareth," he said instantly, though the anger was a brittle,
fragile thing.
"King Jareth," she conceded in that same soft voice and this time,
King was not spat with anger, not forced from bowed pride. Was given
as a gift, from a woman who understood all too well the need for
emotional shields. Who understood how important distance was
sometimes. She was surprised though, as he hastily called a crystal
and wished her away, back to her room with a shattered vanity and cold
stone floors.
Sarah had never seen Jareth rattled before.
wrapping the chapter so you don't have to go back and change everything
by hand. =)
A huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed!! And to all those authors
out there- hay I read fanfiction too! Get off your rears and write! ;)
I know... I know... I shouldn't get impatient but I want new chapters
too!! Especially new chapters that I don't have to pluck from my own
overworked brain... =-P
Disclaimers: and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever...
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~Sacrifices: Chapter 9~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jareth pressed the heel of his hand against the bridge of his nose,
trying to ward off the terrific headache blooming between mismatched
eyes. Sarah watched him as he paced from her precarious, rather
nervous perch on the edge of his bed. Yes, his bed. The throne room
was full of goblins and everywhere else wasn't shielded well enough to
block prying eyes, slitted prying eyes.
Not that Jareth particularly blamed Drevlyn. Jareth guarded the
Dragon Prince's, and his race's future. When he was in a better
temper he wouldn't have particularly blamed Drevlyn. Right this
instant roasted, toasted, and burnt to a crisp were the only words
that came to mind. Interfering busybody. And he wasn't the only
one.
Evirey needed to be taken down a few notches. She may be the Queen
of Intrigue and Politics but she was a very foolish woman. No one
entered the heart of his realm and attempted to take what was his. No
one. Especially not some damned insufferable Unicorn.
Snapping eyes flickered to Sarah. Jareth sighed internally. The
child, girl, woman, very much a woman, looked about as bad as Jareth
felt. She had barely slept in two days, eaten less, and been through
more emotional turmoil than the King of the Goblins cared to think
about.
He himself was not, refused to let himself be, an easy person to deal
with. Especially when it came down to a mortal, a human immortal his
mind added with a cynical little laugh, who had beaten his Labyrinth.
Who had defeated him. Who had refused her dreams and all that Jareth
could offer.
Her child for her life had been their deal and now... Now it was her
life for her child's future. Throw immortality, a devious Unicorn
Queen, and a disapproving Dragon Prince in the mix and Jareth was
pleased that Sarah Williams wasn't having a nervous breakdown. She
looked pissed but then, she wasn't trying to slap him so he wasn't
going to complain.
He paused his nervous dance around the room in front of her and
frowned. "We have to talk." Sarah lifted her chin from her knees and
stared at him. There was fear in that intent gaze but it was
overshadowed by stubborness, and a strength that was new in her.
Womanhood had brought more to Sarah than a mature body.
"Where are we?" Jareth glared and his newest subject glared back,
clearly uncomfortable in the silk oppulence that the King of the
Goblins chose for his personal quarters. The atmosphere was rich,
seductive, intimate... a reflection of himself. The architecture,
like the rest of the castle, leaned towards gothic with vaulted,
arched ceilings and chambers of different floor levels.
Velvet drapes covered the numerous windows and silk hung from the
ceiling like waves, or clouds. Cushions, pillows, cashmere throws
covered bare ledges and created seats for rarely had visitors.
Crystals hung as chandeliers and formed fantastic sculptures that
stood throughout his rooms. His bed was a massive four post thing,
made of cherry wood and covered again with silk sheets. All of the
fabric was varying shades of darkness... blacks, indigos, maroons,
midnight blues and the room was lit by old fashion oil lamps and
hundreds of wavering candles.
"We are in my quarters." At Sarah's drawn brows Jareth snorted again,
this time audibly. "Really Sarah, you think so little of me? I
wished to speak away from the prying eyes of my enemies, and my
friends, and I did not think you would be much more comfortable in the
Throne Room, along with the three dozen goblins that are currently
occupying it."
"The Non Sidhe..." she said softly. Jareth's body tensed as he
continued his prowl, sure predatory steps drawing him closer to her.
He stopped in front of her and titled his head to one side, appraising
eyes darkening with thought. Brown suede gloved fingers brushed one
pale cheek absently.
"My we have been busy, haven't we?" Sarah pulled away and scooted
back on the bed. Jareth stared down at her in absent amusement. "And
where did you learn of the Non Sidhe Sarah? Of the Low, Middle, and
High for I assume you have knowledge of them as well..." She said
nothing. Jareth tsked gently as another step took him to the bed
where he sat gracefully, one leg folded over his other.
"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah..." he chided with her name. She rolled off the
bed in a flash and stood several wary steps away, arms crossed across
her breast in an unconscious imitation of him, though her arms acted
like a shield, not like an outward show of strength and solidarity.
She was rattled.
"I'm not a child Jareth. Don't treat me like one." He rose and was at
her side, taller, more intimidating than should have been possible.
His fingers, when he caressed her cheek again, were still careful,
soothing even.
"I've never believed you to be a child Sarah. Childish perhaps, but
never a child." He ignored the casual use of his name this once. The
last thing he wanted to remind Sarah of was her pride. She shivered
under his touch, at the whispered words, and, in all things concerning
the Goblin King, refused it. She stepped away with a swallow. Jareth
made a move to follow her but she stopped him with her outstretched
hand. They both stared at it, at the angry scar that was a very real
reminder of a life Sarah had left behind. Jareth hissed and the
frustration, the pain, the longing behind the noise startled Sarah,
frightened her more than anything she had experienced here yet.
Jareth was danger and allure. It was part of who, what he was. No
woman could face him, could be in his presence, without being pulled
toward him. She had not recognized that fact twenty years ago, as
they played their thirteen hour game of villain and heroine. She
recognized it now.
It changed nothing.
The rules had changed though, Sarah felt, knew that. For one moment
she wished, desperately, for the black and white of the Labyrinth of
old. That was one thing she had learned, one lesson she had never
been able to take back- the older you got the more the world was one
big gray. And gray with a Goblin King was a very dangerous thing.
His simmering gaze narrowed.
"King Jareth," he snapped suddenly. Sarah flushed. Damn man. No
one, no one flustered her this easily.
"You wished to speak?" Sarah asked, ignoring the reprimand, or the
sudden fury in the Goblin King's frigid gaze. He surveyed her with
cold disdain. Sarah returned the regard cooly, though without the
pure intensity that Jareth managed as she brought her stray hand,
clenched, to her side.
"This first Sarah..." God, she hated it when he said her name. It
was always just a little too suggestive, always lingered over, as if
it was a thing to be savored, tasted. No one's name should be so
enjoyed, so full. 'Human, child, woman', anything would be preferable
to that slow velvety voice whispering, taunting, sliding through the
syllables of her name. It had been daringly thrilling at fifteen. It
was reality enough now to make her wince at its usage. And damn him
again, he knew it, knew it and reveled in it.
"How did you learn of our world?" Sarah flinched at the 'our' as
Jareth continued. "How did you learn of your immortality for that
matter? Evirey? I didn't think she had you to herself for that
long..." There was jealously that flared there, at the last.
"No," Sarah replied, trying to hold back irrational, hysterical
laughter. "Not Evirey..."
"Sarah..." an undercurrent of menace in his harsh tone. Sarah
snorted as she tried, unsuccessfully, not to negate her fears,
insecurities, and overwhelming situation by giggling. Devon would
have recognized her mood and back slowly, but surely away.
One night out, when the sitter had called them home early because she
had gotten food poisoning, after Devon had locked his keys in the car,
and Sarah had twisted her ankle on a patch on ice... They had come
home to a house flooded by an over flown toilet, one puking sitter and
a amused, though confused Melanie and had spent two hours arguing with
a plumber with a reading level of a ten year old... Sarah had laughed
the entire night, giggled, cried, had been insufferable as they paid
an inordinate amount for the plumber, the baby sitter, and had visited
the emergency room for her ankle.
Sarah started laughing.
The Goblin King couldn't have been more surprised if she'd tried to
slap him again.
"Sarah," he intoned, fury at her disrespect lacing her still savored
name with exasperation. He stared at her as she leaned over and
laughed, hard, loud, unrestrained, undismayed by the looming Goblin
King.
"Sarah!" he snapped and her name was once again a command. A command
that she utterly ignored.
"You..." she spluttered helplessly, "You're jealous of... of..."
Jareth growled and with one swift motion hauled the giggling woman
upright. She stared at him, openly, met his piercing, terrifying
glare with her own dancing eyes and continued swiftly, breathlessly,
"You're jealous of your own servant Jareth. It was Hellin who told me
of the Non Sidhe, the Low, Middle and High. It was Hellin who told
me I was immortal..." Jareth's jaw snapped shut abruptly, a
chilliness descending his features with a suddenness that spoke of
absolute control. Sarah admired that control, admired it and knew she
could never achieve it herself.
He released her slowly, his hands loosening from their hold on her
arms. He had been gripping her so tight she had little doubt that
there'd be bruises. "That hurt," she said softly, eyes still staring
into his. He didn't apologize. He didn't acknowledge that she had
said anything else at all.
"I am not jealous."
She spoke before she thought, said the word carelessly, and regretted
it the instant it left her lips.
"Liar."
There were too many meanings layered in that word. Too many contexts,
too much history, both good and bad, tied like a kite tail to that one
simple word. Jareth whitened instantly, paled as if all blood had
fled, leaving only cold marble behind.
"I do not lie Sarah..." He didn't finish the thought, not out loud,
but she could read it in his eyes, in the pale, flushed fires that
resided there. In the hell she had seen behind his pupils that night
twenty not so long years ago.
She felt young in those eyes, young, untried, untested, weaker than
she liked to believe. So young... And Melanie and Devon seemed so
very far away.
'...not to you...' She could almost hear the words said, almost see
them leaving his twisting, beautiful mouth. Yes beautiful... She had
refused Jareth but she had never denied his beauty. You do not deny
that the sea is salty, or that they sky is not blue. You do not deny
the beauty of the Goblin King when you stand before him, especially
when you stand before him.
She did not know the rules of the game. She didn't even know what
game they were playing. If they were playing at all... Sarah
shivered.
"You are cold," Jareth said suddenly, breaking the terrible, poignant
awkwardness of the moment. He stepped away and she watched, wide
eyed.
"We..." Jareth looked away from her, from the immortal human, from his
immortal human. Looked away and tried, desperately, to gather shreds
of a dignity that seemed to have melted, unnoticed, away.
"We shall continue this another time. When you have recovered some
from all the shocks you have had of late." Sarah looked away from the
Goblin King as well.
"All right Jareth," she replied softly.
"King Jareth," he said instantly, though the anger was a brittle,
fragile thing.
"King Jareth," she conceded in that same soft voice and this time,
King was not spat with anger, not forced from bowed pride. Was given
as a gift, from a woman who understood all too well the need for
emotional shields. Who understood how important distance was
sometimes. She was surprised though, as he hastily called a crystal
and wished her away, back to her room with a shattered vanity and cold
stone floors.
Sarah had never seen Jareth rattled before.